


give and take

by queenhomeslice



Series: Random Promptis One-Shots [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Smut, Bottom Noctis Lucis Caelum, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promptis - Freeform, Top Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Sometimes, everything just bubbles up inside of Noctis, and he feels like a powder keg.Prompto is his wave of cold blue, ready to soothe the angry flames.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Random Promptis One-Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830934
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60





	give and take

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

Sometimes, Noctis just wants to let go and give control to someone else. After endless hours of bureaucratic bullshit, getting his ass handed to him by Gladio in training, trying and failing to beat his own record on _Justice Monsters_ or being bitched at by Ignis to _Please for the love of the Six,_ _Noct_ _, learn to throw away your_ _fast food_ _bags_ —he’s just _tired_. He’s had _enough_. He wants to run away most days. He misses his father so so much, but he can barely bring himself to have dinner at the Citadel because Regis’ mortality hits him like a goddamn freight train and fuck, he wants to beat the Imperials to death one by one with that stupid cane his dad relies on. He’s not ready to be king. He doesn’t want to get married—at least not _yet_. At least not to...to... Noctis grits his teeth. He feels like he can’t even tell Luna half of this shit. He loves her but he’s not _in love_ with her but his life was never really his, was it? 

Noctis is fucking _tired_ and his whole body hurts from the Crystal’s magic, besides. He sleeps like a cat when Ignis lets him; sixteen hours is his record so far, but he knows he could go longer. The fatigue runs deep into his bones and all the energy drinks in the world only make him half-functioning. He’s angry and bitter about so many things. He’s lashed out one too many times at his retainers, even though he doesn’t mean it. They know he doesn’t mean it, but that doesn’t mean he should say those things; even an apology can’t retract his words. He's mad at the world, mad at himself, mad at the Niffs, mad that pre-orders on the collector’s edition of Assassin’s Creed is sold out and being a prince can’t get you _everything_ , he supposes. 

There’s really only one solution when Noctis gets this bad—there's only one person that he trusts enough in order to surrender control. One person that Noctis is willing to give himself to—give _everything_ to. Someone who understands him implicitly and who will take and take and take what Noctis has to surrender. 

___ 

Noctis opens the door to his apartment—it's late, almost ten pm, but Prompto doesn’t work tomorrow and Ignis only left at nine, and Noctis had debated for nearly fifteen minutes whether to even text Prompto at all. But now he’s here, wrapped in loose sweatpants tucked haphazardly into old boots, with an old high school sweatshirt hanging on his lean frame. His hair is damp and down—freshly showered, just how Noctis likes him. Prompto beams at his prince, indigo eyes wide and full of adoration. It’s everything that Noct needs in this moment. 

“Hey buddy!” says Prompto, but before he can say anything else, Noctis yanks him inside by the sweatshirt and closes the door, pushing Prompto against it and crashing their mouths together like it’s the last time they’ll ever get to do this. 

Prompto fuckin’ melts, as usual, gasping into Noct’s eager lips as the prince sucks on his tongue, finding solace in the other boy’s body. Noctis wedges his knee between Prompto’s supple thighs and groans deeply, feeling the blond’s hardness already pulsing with want. He pulls off of Prompto to admire his flushed, freckled face and his slick, kiss-swollen lips. 

“Need you,” Noctis grunts, still trapped behind all of his walls, his anger, his insecurity. 

Prompto doesn’t question it. He swallows down his protests. He sees the flashes of crimson-purple in Noct’s stormy blue eyes and knows what he has to do. “Lead the way, Noct,” is all that he says. 

Prompto never thought much of himself, before. And even losing weight only got rid of the surface-level anxiety. The fact that Noctis trusts him with his body is more than he can bear, but Prompto shoulders the challenge anyway. 

Prompto’s eyelids flutter shut as he screws into Noct’s pliant body, breath hitching as he’s enveloped in the familiar tight, wet heat. His mouth drops open and a moan escapes him, strong biceps quivering—not from effort, but from fear of coming too fast. Fear of not giving Noctis what he needs. 

But Noctis always seems satisfied, so Prompto pushes down the self-deprecation and opens his eyes to look at his prince below him, that alabaster skin on display framed by dark features and piercing eyes, that smooth and toned muscle slotted together _just_ so. It blows Prompto’s mind. Noct’s cock is throbbing red and weeping, but it goes untouched. Noct’s calloused hands are twisted in his luxury sheets, and he’s staring at Prompto like he’s the only other person in the world. 

The feeling is intoxicating. 

“Fuck me,” Noctis sniffs, the cool guy façade slowly cracking. Prompto’s the only one to make him truly let go. “Hard and fast, Prom. Don’t...don’t wanna think about anything else.” 

Prompto’s breath hitches and he swallows, nodding. He'd do anything for Noctis, and if this is what the Crown Prince of Lucis needs, then Prompto’s gonna give it to him. “No sweat,” he says. He can do this. He’s done this a hundred times, but gods it never gets any less amazing. He gently pulls out a few inches and then glides back in, Noct’s muscle sucking him back in like Prompto’s cock was made to be inside of him. 

“Shit, Noct,” Prompto whines. 

“Prompto,” Noctis grits, wiggling his hips. 

“Easy, easy baby,” Prompto purrs, knowing Noctis gets off on a bit of talk through this. “I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t I always?” 

Noctis sniffs a little more. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

“Let go,” Prompto coos. “C’mon, I’ve got you. You trust me, right?” Prompto knows he does, but it still doesn’t hurt to ask every time. 

“I trust you,” says Noctis, closing his eyes. 

“Good boy,” Prompto replies; and he pulls out to the tip, slamming hard into his prince and making Noct’s cock jump with a jolt of pleasure. 

Prompto repeats the motion—again, and again, and again, angling himself to relentlessly assault his best friend’s prostate with every single thrust. Prompto clenches his jaw and grits his teeth, trying and trying and _trying_ to stave off his own orgasm. Noctis is screaming underneath him, moaning and writhing and panting. His perfect skin is bathed in a faint sheen of sweat; his cock could cut diamonds, a thin string of pre-cum connecting the swollen head and his sharp-cut abs below. Noct’s ankles are on Prompto’s ruddy, freckled shoulders, and Prompto drives as deep as he can into Noct’s ass, attempting to drive out the deamons and the hurt and the angst from the inside out. 

Noctis is quivering as Prompto bites into that soft junction of neck and shoulder, feeling himself rush towards the end, thin hips stuttering in their rhythm as Prompto moves on instinct inside of the prince. 

Finally, though, Noctis gasps and screams and claws jagged red lines down Prompto’s back, convulsing like a man possessed as his climax crashes into him. Noctis swears he sees the very stars, all the known galaxies, and the realm inside the Crystal where Bahamut lies in wait. His cock explodes onto his abs as Prompto fucks the sticky white from his body, and somewhere in the distance he hears, “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you come, Noct,” followed by a hot gush of Prompto’s own release inside of him. 

Noctis moans brokenly as Prompto pulls out. He opens sore and tear-stained eyes, gazing at his best friend who’s still holding himself up above him. “More,” croaks Noctis, weeping openly, now. 

Prompto’s so damn lucky to have stamina. His erection has only flagged a little. He grabs Noct’s slender hip and flips him—the prince yields so, so easily. Prompto pushes his knees apart and slides back home, ready to go another round as his own cum and lube leak from Noct’s reddened hole. 

“Whatever you need, Noct,” is Prompto’s reply as he takes more and more and more from his prince. 


End file.
